Aftermath
by gglovebug
Summary: GSR. Inside the minds of Grissom and Sara during the Season 4 Finale End Scene and beyond. Some revelations and perhaps some changes?
1. Ch1

Disclaimer: All rights to CSI: Crime Scene Investigation and its characters belong to CBS/Alliance Atlantis/Jerry Bruckheimer Television/Anthony E. Zuiker. No copyright infringement is intended.

Spoilers: Through Bloodlines at present  
Rating: Currently PG-13 but most likely will change as it progresses  
Pairing: G/S  
Summary: Inside the minds of Grissom and Sara during the Season 4 Finale End Scene - and beyond. Some revelations and perhaps some changes?

A/N: This is a WIP (Work in Progress). I am _trying_ to update as often as 'Real Life' allows so please keep checking back in. I WILL finish this... I won't let it become an orphan, I promise.

XxxOOOxxX

_Chapter 1_

Even if Sara hadn't heard Grissom's voice as he approached the waiting room and thanked the officer, she would have known he was there. It was as though she had a sixth sense when it came to him. Whenever he was near she could feel it. It wasn't something she could describe with words; it was a sensation like no other. When Grissom was in proximity to her, she knew.

Grissom hesitated in the doorway for a moment, relief washing over him as he silently drank in the image of Sara before him. The phone call informing him that she had been involved in a DUI had caused his mouth to go dry and his heart to pound wildly in his chest, as images of her torn and bruised body slammed into him. Even though the officer had assured him she was fine, his investigative mind required tangible evidence before his heart could begin to beat normally again. And here she was. Physically she looked fine, but even from a distance Grissom could see that emotionally, Sara was far from it. He stepped forward tentatively, his left wrist flexed in his characteristic uneasy gesture.

Sara saw Grissom's approach in her periphery but she didn't turn to look at him. She didn't want to look at him, and even if she did, her body wouldn't have allowed it. She felt stiff all over... heavy... much like the feeling one gets when the mind wakes from a vivid dream before the body has had the chance to catch up and remains immobilized. No, she couldn't look at him right now. Her eyes couldn't gaze into his and see the disappointment that would surely be there. Her ears couldn't stand to hear the recrimination that would be in his voice, nor the lecture that was sure to come. She had heard enough of that in the past couple of years. She didn't need any more.

She felt him sit beside her, but she said nothing, keeping her gaze steadily on the wall before her as she heard the soft sigh that he let escape from his lips. She watched from the corner of her eye as his hands clasped together, mirroring her own. Then, as if in slow motion, she saw his hand begin to move. She stared in wonderment as it reached towards her own without hesitation and clasped hers tenderly. She felt his body heat seep through to her palm, his feather-light touch as his thumb caressed her hand sending a frisson of electricity throughout her body. She couldn't speak. She couldn't move. She just stared at the image before her of their two hands entwined. It was so odd, yet so right at the same time.

"Come on, I'll take you home."

His voice was like silk; smooth and soft. For a moment she wasn't sure she had even heard him speak - perhaps it was only in her mind. She dropped her head to her chest as she struggled to process it all.

Grissom gazed at Sara's solemn profile and then squeezed her hand ever so gently.

"C'mon," he demanded softly as he rose from the chair, drawing her up with him, never releasing his hold on her hand. He turned to face her but Sara kept her head down, eyes closed, at a loss for what to say or do. She felt so tired. Bone-weary. Numb. She didn't know whether she should feel elated at this tender side of Grissom or angry that it took a stupid lapse in judgment on her part to bring it about.

"Sara," he whispered as he placed a single finger under her chin, gently lifting her face up to his.

Finally Sara opened her eyes and met Grissom's impossibly blue ones, witnessing the kind of emotion in them she had only envisioned in her dreams.

Love.

Sara furrowed her brows as a small laugh escaped her lips in disbelief. Love? _Now?_ Surely she was more inebriated than she had thought.

Grissom tilted his head and offered a gentle, albeit confused, smile at her reaction. "I think… you could use some coffee. Let's go."

XxxOOOxxX

**No words were** spoken as Grissom drove Sara home. She stared out the passenger window at the passing hustle and bustle that was the Las Vegas strip, the bright lights becoming blurred as they drove past. Grissom glanced over at her still form every now and then, but remained silent. There would be time enough for talking later. Before she knew it, Grissom was pulling into Sara's parking space at her apartment. It suddenly struck her that she had never given him directions nor told him which space was hers. Sara turned and gave him a questioning look.

"How did you know… how to get here? I've never had you – anyone – over."

Grissom shrugged lightly as he stared out the windshield, hands still gripping the steering wheel.

"When I can't sleep, I… drive."

"And you drive... _here?_" she asked, surprised.

He remained silent for such a long time that Sara thought he wasn't going to answer her. Then quietly he replied, "Sometimes."

"–Why?"

It was then that Grissom finally released the steering wheel and turned to face her. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but couldn't seem to find the words. He exhaled and looked down at the seat, and when he looked back up he said, "I was going to get you some coffee. Do you have any or should I find a Starbucks?"

Sara just stared at him in frustration, once again marveling at how quickly he could change gears when the conversation got personal.

"I have some." She opened the car door. "Thank you for taking me home Grissom." As she got out of the Denali she was stunned to see Grissom getting out as well.

"What are you doing?"

Acting as if this was the most natural thing in the world for him to do he said, "Coming in for a cup of coffee."

This was all just too much for Sara to grasp at the moment. "Listen, Grissom. I'm fine. Really. I didn't have that much to drink. I just hadn't eaten all day and it must have gone straight to my head."

Grissom knew that Sara would actually eat meat before she would ever admit that she needed someone to keep her company right now. He knew that her excuse was probably valid, but…

"Okay… But even if you didn't mean to get drunk…" He hesitated as Sara glared at him, and then continued, "Just like drinking and driving… drinking and solitude are not a good combination. Trust me… I know what I'm talking about."

Sara's expression didn't change. Although what had happened tonight was serious, it was clear to Grissom that he needed to take a different approach with Sara to be successful.

"Look… it's been a long night… for _both_ of us. I could use a cup of coffee myself and besides," he paused, a grin emerging as he cocked his head and lifted his chin, "I've never seen _your_ apartment. You've seen _mine_ – quid pro quo."

Sara simply smiled to herself and shook her head lightly. _Damn, how did he do that?_ No matter how mad she was at him or herself he could always turn on the charm and get past her defenses!

"Fine. I'm too tired to stand here in the parking lot and argue about it," she said, turning to make her way up the stairs to her apartment.

Grissom followed close behind, smiling to himself as he savored his small victory.

TBC


	2. Ch2

_Chapter 2_

Sara dropped her keys and bag on the counter separating the kitchen from the living area in her tiny apartment, amazed at the events of the past twenty-four hours. Never in her wildest dreams could she have conjured up such a chain of events: a rape victim brutalized not just once, but twice by the same attacker and then eventually murdered by him as well; the perpetrator having two sets of DNA; being taken in and almost booked for DUI; Gil Grissom, of all people, having to pick her up and take her home as if she were some unruly schoolchild sent to the principal's office; Grissom's actually taking her hand in his, showing tenderness and compassion the likes of which she had never seen from him; and to top it all off – Grissom was now actually standing in her apartment. Sara shook her head at the absurdity of it all and headed towards the coffee maker.

"Can I help you with that?" Grissom asked.

"No thanks. Why don't you have a seat on the couch?"

Grissom nodded his assent as he hesitantly entered Sara's living room. Before sitting down, however, he wandered around the living area, curious. Immediately he was struck by how austere her accommodations were. It was obvious to any casual observer, much less a trained investigator like Grissom that the occupant of this apartment spent very little time here. Only the basic necessities were present; television, couch, a computer perched on a desk overflowing with periodicals and texts left open to a topic of particular interest. Looking up from the desk Grissom noted that there were no pictures gracing the walls, decorative or otherwise. He wasn't surprised. Sara's style of clothing and makeup alone demonstrated her disdain for anything superfluous or pretentious, but unlike many women, it worked for her. She needed no additional adornment to enhance her natural beauty, Grissom mused. He was surprised, however, that there were no photographs of friends or family present anywhere. He knew she didn't speak of anyone, but she was a private person like he was, he wouldn't expect her to. Still, he somehow imagined some photographic evidence of the existence of a family.

Grissom continued his perusal of Sara's apartment, now directing his attention towards two tall bookcases hugging the wall beside the desk. There were a lot of books, mostly forensics and physics texts, but with a scattering of other titles intermingled. He noted with an amused grin that she obviously enjoyed romance novels, as several provocative titles like _Jazzy Lust_ and _Casa Caliente_ peaked out between the more mundane _The Quantum World_ and _New Directions in Statistical Physics_. As Grissom continued to skim the titles, noting the occasional Patricia Cornwell crime novel on Sara's shelves, his eyes came to rest quite abruptly on a yellow hardback, _American Sign Language the Easy Way_. The book seemed oddly out of place and his mind began to click away at the possibilities as he raised a brow and pursed his lips in puzzlement.

"See anything you want to borrow?"

Startled, Grissom turned to find Sara directly behind him, two steaming mugs of coffee in hand.

"Uh… no… I just… was admiring… your eclectic tastes in reading material." He smirked and shook his head in disbelief as he continued, "I can't believe you like to read Patricia Cornwell after a long day in our line of work."

"Well, the protagonist, Kay Scarpetta, is a strong, brilliant forensic pathologist who just happens to also be a woman. What's not to like?" Sara responded matter-of-factly and proffered a mug towards Grissom. "Do you want to sit?"

Grissom nodded, taking the mug from Sara's hand as they both made their way towards her rather small couch. Silently they sipped their respective coffees; or rather, Grissom did. Sara absently held the mug in her hands as she stared at the dark fuchsia-colored walls before her, her mind in turmoil. She was aware of Grissom watching her, the intensity of his gaze feeling as if it was boring deep into her very soul. The silence was becoming unbearable. For many reasons Sara didn't want to press Grissom; she could only imagine how she had disappointed him and what he was going to say or do about it. However, another part of her didn't really care anymore. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't be whatever it was he wanted – as a CSI or as a woman. _Hell, just get it over with Sidle_, she thought to herself.

"So, when do I get the lecture?" Sara finally asked to break the silence.

"Sara – "

"No, really. I know it's coming. I screwed up… royally. God, I can't believe how stupid I was! I really didn't feel impaired… I could have hurt so many people… I've probably lost my job, right? And to top it all off, I've given you another perfect example of why I didn't deserve the promotion." Everything Sara had been thinking all evening came tumbling from her lips at a furious, staccato-like pace. Angrily, she deposited her mug on the coffee table and leaned back against the cushions, winding her arms tightly around herself.

"Sounds like you've got it covered… except for your job and the promotion. You obviously don't need _me_ to lecture you." Grissom replied gently, placing his own mug on the table and turning to look at Sara's face. As much as every fiber of his being really did want to scream at Sara, to shake her senseless for putting her life, not to mention other people's lives as well as her career in jeopardy, he didn't see how berating Sara would be of any help to her right now. Something was seriously wrong for Sara – Sara of all people – to take such a mindless risk. For once he realized that what she really needed right now was his support. What he needed right now were some answers.

"Wh-What?" Surprise was clearly evident in Sara's voice.

"I said it's obvious you don't need me to lecture you. No one is more critical of Sara Sidle than Sara Sidle herself."

Sara furrowed her brows. "What do you mean by that?"

"Exactly what I said Sara. _You_ are your own worst critic. You screwed up. An error in judgment almost lost you your career, not to mention your life – other people's lives. You were lucky. Don't get me wrong; this is serious, deadly serious, I won't belittle it… But people do make mistakes, Sara. The truth is, we're all human… even _you_." Grissom said in a soft, soothing tone.

Sara was dumbfounded by Grissom's response. "This coming from Gil Grissom - the man for whom I can do nothing right."

Grissom was taken aback. This was not the reaction he had anticipated.

"What do you mean you can't do anything right for me?"

"Come on, Grissom. Nothing I do seems to please you anymore. I feel like I have to walk around on eggshells around you all of the time. You give Nick the promotion 'because he didn't care whether he got the job or not'. You obviously don't think I'm a good CSI."

Despite his intentions, Grissom was now becoming angry himself.

"Sara… you do good work. You're not only a good CSI, you're easily the best I've ever known. You're a natural. If I don't tell you that all the time it's because… I didn't think I needed to." Grissom closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "Why is it that everyone at the lab is always in constant need of my approval, my affirmation? Greg, Hodges, David, Nick, even you… constantly trying to impress me? It's not necessary. I can't continually stroke your egos. What would impress me was if you all _stopped_ trying to impress me." Grissom sighed in exasperation.

Sara didn't respond, could not have done so had she tried. Such a wonderful compliment followed by such a scathing reproach. She was reeling from the shock of it.

"Do you really know why I've been so hard on you? Turning you away?" Grissom searched Sara's eyes.

Sara didn't answer, just kept staring at him.

"Because I wanted you to stop needing my approval. Anybody who's great at anything, Sara, does it for their own approval not someone else's. You don't need _my_ approval. You are good at what you do. _You_ needed to see that. My method has worked before. It worked for Nick… it seems to be working for Greg… however, you…" Grissom let out a low chuckle, "are a special breed, Sara… and all I've managed to do for you is to cause you pain…"

"So… all the silent treatment… not working cases together… was only about making me a better _CSI_…" Sara's voice was barely a whisper.

Grissom hesitated, and then let out a long, agonizing sigh. "No… I somehow thought that if I could get you to stop seeking my approval, you'd stop seeing me as your teacher, your... mentor, your... supervisor... and start seeing me as a... _man_."

TBC


	3. Ch3

_Chapter 3_

To say that Sara was stunned by Grissom's declaration would have been the understatement of the century. It was rare for her to ever be left completely speechless, but that's exactly what she was. Her mind was spinning as a result of his brief tirade.

Grissom, on the other hand, was absolutely horror-struck. Did those words actually come out of his mouth? Never did he speak without weighing his words carefully, ever vigilant against revealing more about himself than he wanted others to know. Now, he realized, he had exposed far too much. He felt naked… and woefully inadequate as a supervisor _and_ as a friend. He was supposed to be providing Sara with support and understanding, not bombarding her with his own frustrations – least of all those involving her.

"I'm sorry." Grissom sounded pitiful, a stricken look on his face. "I shouldn't have said –"

Sara finally found her voice, "You don't think I see you as a _man_?"

"Now's not the time to –"

Sara cut him off by raising her palm up and shaking her head at him. "Whoa… no back-pedaling, Grissom." She paused, "Do you know how long I've been waiting to hear you tell _me - _and not some stranger - what you're feeling? I want to talk about this."

Grissom's mouth opened slightly and he cocked his head, eyes narrowed in confusion. _Stranger? What was she talking about?_ Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, he sighed heavily before replying, "I didn't come here to discuss _my_ feelings."

"Uh uh... You can't just say those kinds of things to me and not allow me to respond. Well… I mean you can… you do it all the time – but not this time." Sara looked pointedly at Grissom. He realized with dismay that her behavior had gone from despondent to shock to irate in less than five minutes. Gil knew his communication and social skills were lacking, but... Why couldn't he seem to say anything right around Sara?

"I-I-I don't believe you. Lumping me in with Greg and David and … and… _Hodges_!" Sara's normally low and husky voice was rising in pitch with anger. "And you think that all I want is to impress my _mentor_ and get _my supervisor's_ approval?"

Grissom didn't want to continue on the treacherous path this conversation had taken, but it appeared that he no longer had a choice in the matter. What was it that Greg had said to him once? '_Som man reder sa ligger man_ - One must lie in the bed one has made'. Well, he may as well climb all the way in and pull up the blankets. Determined, Grissom's expression was purposely blank and he kept his voice carefully neutral as he replied, "Can you honestly tell me that's not to some extent true?"

Sara stood up then, and began pacing the floor, clearly frustrated. _Dammit!_ she thought to herself. She knew he was at least partially right and it pissed her off that he could read her so easily. The simple truth was that she did want his approval – as a supervisor, as a mentor, but first and foremost, as a _man_. She _did_ want to impress him – to make him see that she really was worthy of his attention. She hated herself for it. She also hated the fact that she didn't seem to be able to. But for him to lump her in with David and Hodges? Why couldn't he see her as the accomplished woman, and CSI, that deep down she knew she was – and so desperately wanted him to recognize?

"You're clueless, you know that? I'll admit that it's nice to be able to impress you every now and then, Grissom, and I cherish any compliment you throw my way – which, by the way, hasn't been very often these days – but I don't _need_ it to prove my worth as a CSI." Sara stopped pacing and turned to face Grissom.

"You want me to see you as more than my mentor or supervisor? To start seeing you as a man? Then stop seeing me as only your _student_ and _employee_." She took a deep breath and sighed, her voice soft and tinged with sadness as she continued, "I'm more than that."

Grissom leaned back against the couch, and Sara didn't miss the fact that he didn't seem quite able to meet her eyes. He gazed down at his hands sitting limply in his lap and nodded lightly to himself. His voice heavy with resignation he replied, "You're right."

Feeling suddenly exhausted, Sara stepped over to the couch and plopped back down next to Grissom. They both sat in silence for what seemed like hours, each lost in their own thoughts.

Grissom knew deep in his heart that he saw Sara as more than a student and employee - far more - but he recognized that he was terrible at showing it. In reality, he had been trying his best for a very long time to hide it. After his surgery last year, he finally realized that he no longer wanted to hide it. He had come back to the lab with a new outlook and resolution – he even told the Sheriff in Jackpot he was trying to change – and he _was_ trying. He remembered the Quinn - Lyford rape case just a few months back. Sara had been studying the bloody bed sheet in the lab and had asked him to pin her down against it to prove a theory. He had stepped forward and taken Sara's wrists in his hands. He tried to concentrate on what she was saying, but she was standing so close... He could smell her scent, her breath mingling with his… then he had shifted his hands near her waist to aid in further illustrating her theory. But the last thing on his mind was her theory. All he could think about was that this was what she would look like beneath him – in bed. He wondered what her lips would feel like – taste like. He had wanted to kiss her then. He almost did. Then Sara had roused him from his thoughts, saying something about the promotion for the key position. She wanted to make sure that anything that happened or didn't happen between them wouldn't be a factor. Happened or didn't happen. Past tense. She had told him once that by the time he figured out what to do about 'this' that it could be too late. He realized then that he had waited too long. But now… now, if he understood Sara correctly, he might still have a chance…

Sara laid her head back against the couch and closed her eyes. She was absolutely drained. She didn't want to think anymore. But no matter how she tried, she couldn't get the promotion issue out of her head. If Grissom was telling the truth about his reasons for turning her away and not working with her all of these months, and she wasn't sure she was completely buying his story, why did he give the promotion to Nick? Didn't he just include Nick in the same sentence with her, Greg, David, and Hodges as wanting nothing more than to impress him? If that were the case, then why choose Nick over her? Yes, he had seniority, but that couldn't be the only reason. Grissom's 'reason' had been because Nick 'didn't care' about the promotion. Yeah, right. She knew better. She also knew it was a stupid reason and she had already told him so. She wanted to know the _real_ reason. And now was as good a time as any to get it.

Sara broke the silence. "You know, everyone working at the lab, whether they're willing to admit it or not, wants your approval – not just me. I know Nick does – you said so yourself. You also said it wasn't because I'm not a good CSI… so… why _did_ you give Nick the promotion?"

Grissom lifted his head and looked over at Sara, expecting to see her glaring angrily at him, but her face was calm and her eyes were closed. _She must be exhausted_, he thought to himself. "You have to be tired, Sara. Why don't you get some sleep? We can discuss this tomorrow," he said softly.

Sara opened her eyes and rolled her head on the couch so that she could look Grissom in the eyes. Her voice was laden with desperation and pain. "Why can't you tell me? Look, I know it's a moot point – the promotion was cut – but I want to know… if for nothing else than my own peace of mind."

Grissom just stared at her for a moment, chewing the inside of his cheek as he tried to think of a way to explain it to her. Finally, he shifted on the couch to face her more fully. "Sara, why did you want the promotion?"

Sara rolled her eyes and huffed. "Look – wanting the promotion should not be held against me. Nick wanted it too – whether you think he did or not."

"But why did _you_ want it, Sara?" he asked evenly.

Sara's voice was rising in exasperation. "Why does _anyone_ want a promotion, Grissom! Because it proves that you are good at what you do."

"To who?"

"To everyone!"

"But why do you need to prove that? You already told me that you know you're a good CSI. I've already told you that I know you're one of the best. Will a special title change that? No. Trust me, Sara. You didn't want this promotion. It has nothing to do with being a good CSI. It's about forms and invoices and schedules… and people and politics…" Grissom sighed and the corners of his mouth turned up into a reluctant half smile, "Sara… you and I are more alike than I care to admit. Trust me on this… you would not have liked the job. Nick and you are very different. He's better suited for it. He doesn't mind that kind of stuff."

Sara sat silently, absorbing all that Grissom had just told her.

"Do you understand now?" he asked softly. "I wasn't trying to punish you. Hell, if I wanted to punish you – I'd have given you the job!" He let out a small chuckle and his blue eyes searched Sara's brown orbs, hoping to find understanding and forgiveness there.

He was rewarded with both, and a hint of a grin as Sara replied, "You know, you could have told me that before. It's a hell of a lot better than your first explanation."

Grissom nodded, "You're right. I'm sorry, Sara." Sara nodded back and they lapsed into an uneasy silence, neither knowing what to say next.

"You look pretty tired." Grissom offered.

Sara sighed, "Yeah, I am."

"I guess I should go."

But he didn't move, and neither did Sara. They just sat there staring at each other on the couch, the same place they'd been for how long now? An hour? Longer? Both so exhausted by their discussion that they didn't want to move.

"No… stay." Sara's voice was barely a whisper and Grissom had to almost strain to hear it. "Like you said, drinking and solitude are not a good combination. I could use a friend to lean on." Sara looked at Grissom pensively. She felt like she had just been through a ringer and really didn't relish the idea of being alone right now.

A slow smile made its way to Grissom's lips as he realized what Sara was asking of him right now. At this moment he was not her mentor; not her boss. "Come here," he whispered softly as he slid his left arm along the back of the sofa and gently pulled Sara into his side as she laid her head on his shoulder. "Lean on me all you like."

TBC


	4. Ch4

_Chapter 4_

The late afternoon sun filtered lazily through the slats of the blinds covering the living room window across from where Grissom and Sara remained on the couch, bathing the room in a warm, orange glow. A few errant rays fell on Grissom's face as he sat in the same position he had been in several hours before, and slowly he began to drift awake.

Before he could surface completely, he became vaguely aware of a weight settled in his lap, and something silky and soft beneath his fingers. Lazily he opened his eyes, his gaze settling down to Sara's face, so calm and relaxed in sleep as her head rested on his thigh, his hand entwined in her hair.

A smile played on his lips as he gazed down at her.

He realized that he wasn't surprised they had fallen asleep on the couch; after all, neither of them had slept in at least two days and that wasn't even considering the stress of recent events. How Sara had managed to maneuver herself into her current position, however, he could only guess. He certainly hadn't noticed her movement and he was sure that she wouldn't have put herself in this position voluntarily. He didn't care though. He was reveling in her closeness, the feeling of her warmth. He savored the simple pleasure of being able to gaze upon her delicate features without worry of being caught in the act. Grissom felt as if he could stay like this forever… and truly be content.

The realization astonished him.

Before he could contemplate these startling feelings any further, Grissom felt Sara stir and heard her begin to softly moan. He noticed her brows furrow and a grimace contorted her face. She began mumbling very softly, but he could just barely make out, "I told you to stop." Then she started shaking her head agitatedly, "No… no…" her voice growing louder with each syllable until finally, "Nooo!" as she opened her eyes abruptly.

"It's okay, Sara…" Grissom soothed, "…it's okay," as he stroked her hair softly. Sara muzzily turned her head to try and focus her sleepy eyes on the face hovering above her own. When she finally managed, she blinked in surprise as she peered up into Grissom's blue eyes, always so intense, but now especially so as he concentrated worriedly on Sara's face.

"Nightmares?" he asked gently.

Sara felt like she was still in a dream and in a bit of a haze she responded, "Umm… yeah… I guess so," as she slowly brought herself up into a sitting position. Running a hand through her hair to pull it away from her face, she looked over at Grissom. Had she really been sleeping on his lap? _Oh God._

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to… fall asleep… and…" She glanced down at his lap, then back to his face, somewhat embarrassed.

Grissom's eyes were gentle and he shrugged slightly. Sara thought she even saw a hint of a smile on his lips as he stood up from the couch. She mentally shook her head. She certainly was seeing a different side of Grissom these past few hours. Oh, she knew it had once existed, but it had been hidden for so long she thought for certain she'd never see it again. On the one hand, it was a little disconcerting. On the other, it was a welcome gift. Still, she wasn't sure where it was all coming from… or where it was going.

"I need to get home and take a shower before heading back to the lab." Grissom announced as he turned and looked down at Sara. "I'll pick you up tomorrow morning to go get your car out of Impound."

"That's okay. You don't have to do that. I'll take a cab into work and then I'll pick up my car after shift."

Grissom sighed. "You're not working tonight, Sara."

Sara felt her throat tighten and the blood drain from her face. Her eyes wide she replied in a choked whisper, "I thought you said I was wrong about losing my job."

He looked at her uncomprehendingly for a moment, and then his puzzled look was replaced with that of alarm when he suddenly realized what she was thinking. "Oh… no, Sara… that's not what I meant..." he raised an eyebrow and tilted his head, "Today's your day off – don't you remember?"

A wave of relief washed over Sara as she closed her eyes. Opening them again her face brightened as she let out an embarrassed chuckle, "Oh... yeah. I forgot." _Wow_, she thought, _I'm obviously more rattled by all of this than I realized_.

Grissom responded with a wink and a smirk, and then his expression grew more serious. He was sure Sara was still upset by recent events, and probably more than a little thrown off balance by his behavior. He knew that there were still a great many things that had not been said, but he felt that they both needed some time to process things first.

"You'll be okay?" Grissom asked.

"Yeah... I think I'll be fine."

Grissom turned to go. He had his hand on the doorknob when Sara softly called to him.

"Hey."

He turned to look over his shoulder. "Hmm?"

"Thanks." Sara's smile was genuine.

Grissom returned her smile with one of his own. "That's what friends are for," and he continued out the door.

Outside the sun was finishing its daily trek across the sky and now was almost completely set behind the nearby mountains. Grissom made his way across the parking lot and stopped by his Denali to look up. The moon was commencing its own rise heavenwards into the desert night sky and a few twinkling stars were just beginning to make their appearance.

Grissom felt a lightness in his being that he hadn't felt in a very long time. Taking a deep cleansing breath, he opened his car door and got in.

XxxOOOxxX

**"You know, in** all the years I've known you I never would have guessed you could be a killer."

Grissom looked up from his desk to see Brass leaning against his doorway with an expression on his face that he couldn't quite place. Slowly placing the papers he had in his hands down on the desk in front of him Grissom furrowed his brows, his eyes narrowing as he looked up over his glasses and replied, "What?"

"You heard me." Jim's voice was flat, his usual teasing tenor markedly absent.

"Yes, I heard you, but I don't think I understood what you said." Grissom paused, confusion etched on his face, "Did you just call me a killer?"

"That's right." Brass raised himself up from the doorjamb and entered the room. Closing the door behind him, he sat down heavily on the chair directly across from Grissom.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Actually, it looks more like murder-suicide to me but hey, I'm only a detective. What do I know?" Brass shot back dryly.

Grissom let out a frustrated sigh. "Okay, Jim. You know I appreciate your dry sense of humor, but I'm not following you here on this one. Are you talking about a case?"

"No. I'm talking about you… and Sara."

Grissom blinked and shook his head lightly. "Me and Sara?" Grissom didn't like the direction this conversation was taking. It wasn't like Jim to get personal with him, besides the fact that he was speaking in riddles.

"You haven't fallen off the wagon have you?" Grissom had known Brass when he had a drinking problem years ago but thought that was all behind him. The very last thing he needed right now was to be picking up another one of his friends at the station for DUI. He now stared at Jim as if he were a suspect in the interrogation room, attempting to detect any evidence of intoxication. However, Brass appeared to be completely sober.

"I'm not the one you should be directing that question towards."

Suddenly, things were beginning to make a bit more sense. Grissom took off his glasses and held them in his hands, staring at them without seeing them. "So I take it you heard," he said in a hollow voice.

"Did you really think I wouldn't? But don't worry, it's under wraps. I made sure that the officers involved know that if even the slightest hint of Sara's incident makes it into the rumor mill _heads will roll_."

Grissom had no doubt that Brass meant every word he said. He knew from experience that not only could Jim be a tremendous ally – he could be a formidable foe.

"She told me she hadn't eaten all day and the liquor just went to her head. It's an isolated incident, Jim."

Brass wasn't phased. "You sure about that?"

Grissom just stared at him. He truly had absolutely no idea what the man before him was talking about and he had the distinct feeling he didn't want to know.

In turn, Brass couldn't believe how Grissom, a man so intelligent, so astute in the observation of criminal behavior and the collection of evidence, could be so damn blind to what was right before him, staring him in the face.

Brass continued, "I've talked to Sara about this before. I think she may have a drinking problem and I believe you're part of the reason why."

Grissom swallowed hard. Never in a million years would he have ever thought Sara would be the kind of person to develop a drinking problem. And he was part of the reason? He had no idea he was hurting her so much. His voice was soft. "When was this, Jim?"

"Remember the early rollout we had a couple of months back? Well, Sara was popping cough drops pretty good – said she was coming down with a cold. I didn't buy it because hey… I've been there before." Brass gave Grissom a knowing look. "I talked to her about it and she said it was only a couple of beers with breakfast and she wasn't expecting to be called back in –"

"That sounds legitimate. Maybe you're over-reacting, Jim." Grissom was grasping at straws and deep down, he knew it.

Brass just shook his head at Grissom in frustration. "No, Gil – there's more going on here. Haven't you noticed how she's been acting lately? She's really been down this past year – not her usual self. Can you even remember the last time you saw her smile? _Really_ smile? I can't. And since the Debbie Marlin case, it's only gotten worse."

Debbie Marlin. Just her name was like a knife to his chest. "If you saw yourself lying on a slab in the morgue, it might make you pause too you know." Grissom knew how deeply it had affected him to see how much Debbie Marlin resembled Sara; he could only imagine what it had been like for Sara herself. That was one of the reasons why he had tried to keep her away from the crime scene. But he couldn't protect her at the lab - Catherine had told him that Sara had seen Debbie's body. He shook his head. He knew he was making excuses. Brass interrupted his thoughts.

"That's not what I meant about the Debbie Marlin case."

"Then what did you mean?"

"She was there, Gil."

"There?" Gil shook his head slightly; something was beginning to gnaw away at his insides.

"On the other side of the glass. She heard what you said to Dr. Lurie."

Grissom's mouth fell open.

Brass continued. "Hell, I was there too – remember?"

Grissom had no idea anyone had heard his tired confession other than Lurie. Yes, of course, Brass would have had to have heard it. But he had been in such an exhausted and tormented mental state; he hadn't even noticed him there. And Sara. He never meant for her to hear those words. _That's_ what she meant last night about him telling a _stranger_ about his feelings. God, what did she think?

"Look. You've got to do something about this thing you two have between you."

Grissom looked sharply at Brass as if he'd struck him in the face.

"Don't give me that look, Gil. We've known each other for fifteen years. And I've been a detective practically my entire life. It's obvious, man. You're miserable, she's miserable. If this goes on – what's going to happen to her… to you? Are you prepared for the phone call that says she's been involved in another DUI, or had something go wrong at a scene and is now in the morgue? It'll kill you – and you'll feel as if you've killed her. Do something, Gil."

Brass stood and walked slowly to the door, paused and looked back.

"Do something before it's too late."

He opened the door and walked out of Grissom's office.

_Too late._ Those words kept coming back to haunt him.

Grissom chewed at his lower lip, staring at the empty doorway. He knew Jim was right. There was more going on with Sara than he wanted to admit. He had seen the changes, but he just kept telling himself that Sara was strong. She didn't need anybody. She could take care of herself. Well, it was becoming clear that she couldn't do this on her own anymore. It was time for him step up. He picked up the phone.

"Personnel? Yes, this is Gil Grissom. I need you to find a temporary replacement for one of my CSI's while she takes some personal leave. We need someone by the end of the week at the latest. And do you have the paperwork finished for the annual conference I'm attending at the end of the week? Good. I'll be right there to pick it up. I'll be leaving a little earlier than planned."

TBC


	5. Ch5

_Chapter 5 _

After Grissom had left Sara's apartment, she simply sat for a while, staring at the door he had closed behind him. She sighed heavily as she thought about the last few hours and shook her head in weary disbelief. If she had known that getting drunk would manage to get Grissom to open up to her a little, she would have tried that long ago –

_No… NO…_ She scolded herself for being so utterly pathetic. What had gotten into her? She couldn't believe that particular thought had even popped into her head. As much as she desired Grissom and longed for him to feel the same way about her, she _never_ would want his affections if they were only the result of his feeling some kind of pity for her. That was the _last_ way she wanted a man, _any_ man – least of which Gil Grissom. _Get a grip, Sara_, she told herself.

She shook her head as she stood up from the couch and shuffled over to the kitchen to start a fresh pot of coffee. She needed the caffeine desperately. Her hand on her head, she felt like it was splitting in two from the lingering aftereffects of her latest drinking foray - the pain, no doubt playing an integral part in the nonsensicality of her rambling thoughts. She tried to lick her lips, but her mouth was as parched as the Nevada desert that lay just outside of the Vegas city limits. She grasped the coffee pot, and as she poured out the remaining dregs from the previous night's coffee down the sink, she caught her reflection in the stainless steel surface of her refrigerator. She paused for a moment and placed the pot back on the counter. Peering closer at her image, she noted how deathly pale her skin was, and there were dark circles beneath her eyes. She looked more like the victims she processed every night in the morgue than a living, breathing human being. She realized, as if for the very first time, she was but a mere ghost of her former vivacious and happy self. _Where has that Sara gone_? she wondered.

"That's it," she said aloud. "No more."

With the swift and sure movements of a woman on a mission, she threw open her cabinet doors and yanked down every bottle of liquor she could find. She then jerked open her refrigerator door and angrily hauled out the half-empty six pack and a bottle of wine. One by one she opened them all and dumped their contents down the sink. Staring at the drain as the liquid swirled and then disappeared, Sara nodded, self-satisfied. She had to admit, for all the embarrassment and repercussions, getting pulled over for DUI was the kick in the ass she so desperately needed. She was slave to no master – least of all one in a bottle. This particular method of dealing with her pain had to end – and by God, she was going to end it right here and right now. Feeling a vague sense of accomplishment, Sara decided to take a shower and headed towards the bathroom leaving the empty bottles strewn around the kitchen, silent witnesses to her new resolve.

XxxOOOxxX

**After Grissom had** returned from Personnel to retrieve the papers for the annual conference he was attending, he went straight back to his office and picked up the phone. First he dialed the airline to move up the date of the flight he was taking - and to add an extra passenger. Once that was taken care of, he paged Catherine to meet him in his office before the end of the shift. In the meantime, he tried to clear as much of the stacks of paperwork off his desk as he could before turning the reigns of the night shift over to his second in charge. _She should at least be able to see the desk_, he thought to himself as he waded in. It wasn't easy however, as his mind kept wandering back to Sara. Exactly how was he going to get her on a plane with him to this conference – an entomological conference no less? He couldn't tell her she was actually on leave – she'd never go anywhere with him then. No, he had to make it work-related – make her think she was on the job when in actuality it was just the opposite – he was trying to get her away from the lab for a while… _Damn. How am I going to get away with this?_

"You wanted to see me?" Catherine asked as she stood in the doorway. She seemed a little more tired than usual, and Grissom winced inwardly in anticipation of the response he knew he was going to get when he told her that both he and Sara would not be at the lab for the next two weeks.

"Yes. Catherine. Please, have a seat."

She looked at Grissom warily. "Uh oh. This can't be something good if you want me to be sitting to hear it."

Grissom took his glasses off and laid them on the open file on his desk as he leaned back in his chair. He worked his jaw, trying to find the right words to say what was on his mind. "You know that I'm going to be away for the next two weeks for my annual Entomological Conference."

"Yes, I've got an extra sitter lined up for the overtime I know I'll be putting in covering both of our jobs while you're gone."

"Well… I'm going to be leaving a couple of days early…"

"What, your cockroaches getting ancy for the races and want to get there early to check out the competition?" she wisecracked.

"No. They're thoroughbreds and I have every confidence they'll finish tops in their respective races this year regardless of the competition."

Catherine rolled her eyes. "Uh huh… Well… a couple of extra days being short-handed aren't too bad. I think we can handle it."

He nodded. "Under normal circumstances, I'm sure you're right. However… Sara's going to be taking some unexpected personal leave during this time as well. But I've made arrangements for a temporary replacement to cover her shifts."

Catherine blinked hard and her jaw hung open in astonishment. "What? Sara taking time off? Don't tell me the world officially ended while Warrick and I were processing that DB at the Tangiers?" Sara was the unofficial queen of overtime at the LVPD Crime Lab and had more leave time accrued than anyone else in its history – except perhaps for Grissom. She never took off. Ever.

Grissom gave her a disapproving scowl and Catherine shrugged.

"Come on, Gil. Even you have to admit that it would have to take something damn serious to make Sara take leave willingly. Is everything alright with her family?"

"It's called _Personal_ Leave for a reason Catherine. It's none of our business, but I believe she needs to spend some time with a friend out of state." _At least it wasn't an out-and-out lie._

"Oh. Okay." Catherine was a bit dubious, but resigned to the situation. "Well… We'll manage somehow; we always do. It's a good thing things are usually slower around here this time of year. Who's the temp and when can we expect them?"

"I told Personnel that we needed someone by the end of the week, so you shouldn't be without an extra hand for more than a couple of days. I believe Ecklie's going to loan us someone from days. Use Greg as much as you can while we're both gone – he needs the field training and he's shown he's responsible enough to do some basic evidence collection and tagging, and he can take photographs."

"That'll make Greg very happy, I'm sure." She gave Grissom a crooked grin, "You owe me big time – you know that right?"

"Yes, Catherine…" Grissom's tone was that which a husband would use with his wife when he knows he can't win the argument.

Catherine stood and walked towards the door. Before stepping out she turned and said, "Bring me back a _nice_ souvenir this time, okay, Gil? No more gold-plated beetles…" She shuddered visibly as she strode down the hallway, leaving Grissom in his office with a slightly injured and disbelieving look on his face. _Who wouldn't like gold-plated beetles? _

XxxOOOxxX

**Grissom locked up **his townhouse and carried his bags out to his car. The sun was rapidly rising in the sky and the dry desert air was growing warmer by the minute. It didn't take long on a summer day in Vegas for the temperatures to climb into the hundreds and he was glad that he was headed for a little more temperate climate.

After loading his bags in the trunk and climbing into the driver's seat, Grissom decided he should try calling Sara again to let her know that he was on his way towards her apartment. He knew she was expecting him to pick her up so that they could get her car out of the Impound lot, but he wanted to remind her that he was coming and, since he had actually managed to leave the lab on time this morning in order to pack for the trip, he would be earlier than expected. He had called previously during his shift, but she hadn't answered her cell or home phone. He expected that she had probably turned them off – loud ringing noises weren't exactly pleasant when one was suffering from a hangover, which he had no doubt she probably had been. But it had been several hours since he had tried calling her last. Surely she would have turned them back on by now.

As Sara's home phone continued to ring, Grissom frowned. He tried her cell again with the same results. It wasn't like Sara to not be available to be reached. Growing concerned, Grissom stepped on the gas in an unconscious attempt to get to her apartment faster. Upon arriving, he took the steps two at a time up to her apartment and knocked on her door. No answer. He knocked again and listened for any shuffling on the other side, but could hear nothing. _This isn't right_, he thought, _she should be here_. On the off chance that she hadn't locked her door, he tried the knob but it was secure. As he stood there debating what to do next, he looked around for any evidence of a hidden spare key. A middle-aged woman, wearing a housecoat with a hideous pattern of orange and hot-pink flowers, slippers, a newspaper in her hand and a cigarette dangling from her mouth, walked by on the sidewalk below him.

"Hey, you up there. You need help with something? I don't think Sara's home. Her car's not in her spot." She yelled up at him, the cigarette bobbing up and down on her lips with each word.

Grissom turned around to face her, "Yes, I know. I brought her home last night. You wouldn't happen to know if the manager's available, would you? I need to get inside and make sure she's alright – she's not answering her phone."

"I'm the manager – but who are you? I can't let just anyone in." She eyed him warily.

"I'm her boss…" he hesitated, "and a friend."

"I'll go get the key."

Within minutes the manager had returned and climbed the steps to Sara's apartment. As she approached she said, "You must be Dr. Grissom then."

Grissom's brows rose and he gave her a questioning look, "Yes…"

She shrugged. "She talks about you a lot."

As she unlocked the door Grissom stepped in tentatively, calling out, "Sara? Sara, are you here?"

He looked around and immediately noted the empty bottles on the counter in the kitchen. His heart skipped a beat. Surely she hadn't started drinking again when he left…

He could hear a faint humming sound coming from behind a door he assumed had to be Sara's bedroom just down the hallway.

"Sara?" he called again. When he still didn't hear an answer, he strode towards the door.

XxxOOOxxX

**Sara was busy** straightening her hair with her blow-dryer when she thought she heard a voice coming from her living room. Furrowing her brows she turned off the dryer and then cocked her head to listen more carefully. She glanced at her clock; it was too early for Grissom to be there – he never left the lab on time. Hearing something that sounded like footsteps, Sara reached into her bureau drawer for her service revolver and stepped cautiously towards her bedroom door. As she was about to grasp the knob she saw it turn. Eyes wide, she stepped back and raised her weapon while barking out, "Who's there?"

The door opened, revealing an obviously worried Grissom now frozen in place. His mind registered the barrel of the gun pointed at him, but more terrifying to him was the wild fear present in Sara's dark eyes. He tried to calm her by raising his palms in surrender and quietly calling out to her.

"Sara…"

"Grissom?" Sara gasped as she lowered her revolver and flipped the safety back on. Fear then morphed into confusion and finally into anger. Her head and voice shaking, she shouted at him.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Grissom let out a very loud, relieved sigh as his hands dropped back to his sides.

"You didn't answer your phone or your door. I saw the bottles… and…" his voice trailed off as his eyes took in Sara's form for the first time. She was wrapped only in a towel, which barely covered her torso and clung to her like a second skin. Never had he seen Sara in so little clothing and as much as he knew he should, he couldn't tear his eyes away from her. She was stunning and, as always seemed to be the case whenever he was near Sara, left him speechless.

Sara was too upset to notice Grissom's stare at first, still trying to comprehend why he was standing in front of her in the first place.

"How did you get in here?"

"I let him in, Sara." Sara's landlady peaked out from behind Grissom's shoulder. "He wanted to make sure you were alright."

Sara blinked and then gave her a small smile. "Thanks, Mrs. Grady. I'll take it from here, okay?"

"Sure, honey. I'll talk to you later." Mrs. Grady glanced from Sara to Grissom, and then turned and left.

Sara turned her gaze back to Grissom, and finally noticing his own she glanced down and realized the state of her undress. Self-conscious, she pointed towards the living room.

"Well, you've seen that I'm fine."

"Yes."

Grissom was still too distracted to take her hint.

"So…" Sara was becoming more uncomfortable by the second.

He blinked. "Oh… right." Grissom finally realized what Sara was getting at. "Right. I'll, uh… I'll wait for you out there." He pointed over his shoulder to the living room and biting his bottom lip in embarrassment, grasped the doorknob and shut the door.

Sara dropped her chin to her chest and then walked over to her bureau and returned the revolver back to its drawer. She then sat on the edge of the bed, staring down at her trembling hands as she let out a long, ragged breath. Life was becoming a just a little too exciting for comfort recently: first - having a shotgun pointed in her face just days before, then a DUI and Grissom's uncharacteristic reaction, now this. _Maybe I do need a vacation_, she thought ruefully.

TBC


End file.
